


AKA Plastic Hearts and Paper Flowers

by Tamoline



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Dubious Decision-Making, F/F, Lots of Dubious Decisions, Not Nearly as Much Smut as the Description Might Have You Believe, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:16:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5307134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamoline/pseuds/Tamoline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Trish Walker and Jessica Jones had sex, and one time they didn't.</p>
<p>Trish and Jessica have known each other a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	AKA Plastic Hearts and Paper Flowers

“Boys suck,” Trish announced and made a grabby hand for the bottle of wine they’d liberated from her mother’s wine rack.

“Fuck boys,” Jess said agreeably and handed it over. “Anything they’ve done in particular lately?” Her voice hardened a little. “Anything one particular arsehole has done that I need to know about?”

In lieu of an immediate answer, Trish took a deep swallow from the bottle, letting the tartness temporarily overwhelm her senses. This was going to be another mistake, she knew. Another. Even if her mother didn’t catch them now, sooner or later she’d miss the bottle, and then…

Fuck it, she thought rebelliously, and took another swallow.

“So?” Jess said, poking her When Trish looked blankly at her, she said, “Boys suck, remember? What prompted that little outburst?”

Oh, that. When Trish went to raise the bottle for a third time, Jess lifted it off her, saying, “Uh uh. Talking first, more alcohol abuse later.”

Trish sighed and threw her head back, looking up at the ceiling. “Hadrian’s been… you know, talking about how far he’s gotten with ‘Patsy Walker.’ It’s nothing, really,” she smiled painfully. “Just stupid boy stuff.” Just stupid Patsy thinking that a boy might care about her for once more than the rep for having bagged her.

“That little fuck,” Jess swore. “I’ll-“

Trish finally looked back down and grabbed Jess by the hand. “Please don’t,” she said softly. “Just- just let it be. I don’t want you to get into any more trouble with the school on my account.”

“It’d be worth it,” Jess said mutinously.

“Please,” she said, giving Jess her best pleading stare. 

After a moment, Jess looks down then takes a swig from the bottle before handing it back over. “Here,” she said. “Why couldn’t you have stolen something with more kick to it?”

It was as good as she was going to get, and Trish knew it. She drank again. “I just wish, you know, that it wasn’t a near certainty that whoever I lose my virginity to wasn’t going to wave it around everywhere like it was some kind of- of fucking *trophy*.”

“None of the shitheads you go out with deserve it,” Jess said darkly.

Trish suddenly giggled, reached over and hugged her. No matter how much she tried to hide it, Jess had a heart of gold. “Why, Ms Jones,” she said, “That almost sounds like an offer.”

Jess froze beneath her. “N-no,” she stammered, utterly outside her cynical zone of comfort for once and Trish had never wished for a camera to hand more than right now, so she could preserve this moment for posterity.

“But it’s a great idea!” she said, grinning, just to try and extend that look of near panic. But now that she thought about it, it wasn’t actually all that bad. There was no one she’d ever trust more than Jess and- and something inside her felt warm that this part of her, this special thing of hers, would always be Jess’s. “Please,” she added more seriously.

Jess looked at her wide-eyed, before closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, the usual bored exterior she presented to the world was back in place. “You’re going to need a better class of alcohol than that to get me into bed,” she said, nodding at the bottle of wine.

“Deal,” she said then bounced to her feet, swaying only briefly. 

Jess raised an eyebrow before rising to join her. “Looks like you need some help there.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted before walking calmly and steadily to the door. “See?”

“Well, that’s convincing,” Jess muttered before following her.

The bottle of whiskey was easy enough to procure, a space where it was unlikely that mother would stumble across them when she returned from networking only slightly more difficult. 

The sex was, at best, fumbling, frustrating much of the time with Jess seemingly incapable of holding to anything like a rhythm, and eventually Trish called it off, figuring that she’d gotten about as good as she was going to get, and she was starting to get sore.

But it was the laughter, the care, the love that made it special, despite its stupid adolescent drunkenness, that made the memory something that Trish clung to for years to come over arguably better encounters with more skilled lovers. It was something special she had shared with Jess, and that was all she had really needed right then.

* * * * *

Jess clinked her bottle against her glass in a salute. “To your first night in your own place,” she said.

Trish’s stomach twisted at the reminder and she took a large swig of wine to try and settle it. She briefly thought about searching through her handbag for another pill in addition to the two she’d already taken before deciding that, no, she’d be good. 

She could wait another few hours at least.

She gave Jess a weak smile. “Yeah. To our first night in our new place.”

She couldn’t help feel like her mother was going to come crashing through the door at any moment, like her new found independence was a fragile illusion that would shatter at any moment. Right now the main difference between this and any of the other places they’d lived over the years, whenever they had to move for work or mother decided that they merited an upgrade, was the lack of even a hint of mother’s perfume in the air.

Jess flung a noodle towards her. It stuck somewhere in her hair. “Come on,” she said. “Lighten up. Give me a proper smile.”

She drained her glass, then refilled it. “Sure,” she said, giving Jess one of her 100 watt professional smiles.

She was greeted with another noodle to the face. 

“Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m just not really feeling it yet.” Her mouth quirked a little. “It just doesn’t quite feel like ours yet.” She shrugged. “It’ll come.”

Jess snickered. “Get one of your disposable boy toys and claim various of the surfaces. Then maybe it’ll feel a bit like yours.”

Trish sat up straight, outrage briefly clearly her head. “Firstly, the guys I’m seeing at the moment are not *disposable*. Secondly, is that really your idea of a good thing to do in this apartment? Because I live here too, and I’m not certain I want to sit on or eat off things that you’ve *defiled*.” Jess smirked but didn’t reply. “Thirdly,” she added in a softer voice. “This is *our* apartment, not mine, and doing that seems pretty damn alienating to you.”

“Yeah, well,” Jess said. “It’s your money that’s paying for this. As far as I’m concerned, that makes this pad yours. Not that I mind squatting or anything.”

“It’s ours,” Trish repeated stubbornly.

Jess slurped up a noodle, grinning, saying nothing.

Trish felt a sense of morbid curiosity overwhelm her. “Do you really think I should…?” she gestured at the oak table that’d just been delivered today.

“Yeah, sure,’ Jess said, shrugging. “If nothing else, imagining dear Dorothy eating a meal off the table after that is kind of hilarious.”

Trish blushed, but refused to look away from her. “If you really feel that way, maybe I should do it with you,” she said, almost breathless with nervousness. They’d never repeated that first experience, not even talked about it. Trish because she’d been too nervous to ever bring it up again, Jess for who knew what reason. 

“Sure,” Jess said defiantly, cheeks a little coloured. “Guess we could do it that way.”

“Okay then,” Trish said, voice a little high, chest tight, and got to her feet. “I just… need to go to the toilet quickly.”

“Sure,” Jess said, facade of detached amusement restored, as she stretched out on the couch. “I’ll just wait here for you, shall I?”

She walked very deliberately to the washroom and stared in the mirror for a few moments, stomach churning. Why had she said that? Why hadn’t she left well enough alone? Mother, by off hand comment and sneer, had made her view of women who ruined their careers ‘like that’ very clear, and Trish, even now, was too afraid to really close the door on her acting career, even as she desperately wanted to do anything else.

She unscrewed the bottle of tranquillisers and dry swallowed two. Almost immediately, the nausea started subsiding. She took one deep breath. Two.

Okay, she could do this.

She stalked out there, the room only swaying a little around her. Jess had taken over the couch, feet propped up on the opposite armrest. “So?” she asked, eyebrow raised challengingly as Trish exited the washroom.

Trish suddenly felt completely calm. So she wanted to play things this way, huh? “Let’s do it, then.” She pointed at the table. “Get up there.”

Jess looked momentarily shocked, then rolled to her feet. “Fine,” she said, shucking off her jeans and knickers, before boosting herself onto the table and spreading her legs wide. “Let’s get this party started.”

As Trish approached her, the room took on a slightly unreal air, and her eyes were tugged irresistibly downwards. She could do this. She could. As she went down on her knees, Jess said in a slightly shocked voice, “You’re doing *that*?”

She blinked, and a nervous but not entirely unpleasant flutter started in her stomach. She looked up at her from underneath her eyelashes. Jess’s eyes were slightly bugged, mouth open.

Trish found that she quite liked that look on her.

“Do you have a problem with that?” she asked, a slightly breathy tone having appeared in her voice from somewhere.

Jess swallowed, then obviously forced a poker face. “No,” she said.

Trish took a breath and buried her face between Jess’s legs. It was different from the blow jobs she’d given, the taste flooding out almost immediately. She wasn’t entirely awful at it, though, judging by the way that Jess’s hands very quickly found their way into her hair, fisting in it and pushing her closer.

Just like before, it was a learning process like any other, and slightly spacey feeling that only increased with time didn’t help. She stuck with it, though, changing or maintaining tempo as directed, inserting fingers when Jess asked. Eventually Jess started convulsing and came with a soft cry, then came again with no sound at all, and Trish rocked back on her knees, feeling vaguely satisfied.

“No complaints, I trust,” she said, then, “Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch,” as she tried to get to her feet, managed on the second try and really regretted not putting a cushion down as feeling started to return to her knees.

“Wasn’t bad,” Jess said, then smirked. “But the next surface is mine.”

Trish felt jittery, so jittery that she almost left like crawling out of her skin. She needed something, anything to occupy herself with. Which was her current explanation for why she was currently buried knuckle deep in Jess.

* * * * *

It wasn’t a common thing, but it hadn’t exactly been unknown since they’d moved into the apartment together. When neither of them had a boyfriend or someone they were even semi-seriously interested in, when they were both in the mood, maybe with a little alcohol to grease things, it happened.

But not like this. Not quite like this. Trish had a problem. She knew she did. Maybe she should be in rehab, but she was still too stubborn to follow the child-star story to completion and go to rehab just yet. And so she and Jess had thrown out all the pills, all the alcohol, and Trish was going cold turkey.

Just herself and Jess.

And right now she was going slightly crazy.

Hence the distraction.

“Please,” Jess whimpered and Trish felt a visceral thrill go through her. She couldn’t imagine Jess saying that to just anyone, for just anything, not unless she really meant it, and it was so, so…

“Please,” she said again as Trish kept her on the edge.

“What will you do in return?” Trish asked.

Jess flicked open her eyes and glared at her.

“I asked you a question,” Trish said.

“You’ve got entirely too demanding,” she said. Trish waited, barely moving inside her. “Fine,” she finally grunted. “Anything.” A second, stronger, pleasure rushed through Trish. “Happy, now?”

“Absolutely,” Trish said, smiling, and started up again. “Wait, anything?” she asked after a moment, slowing again, her mind slipping to the one thing above all she really wanted right now.

“Yes!”

“How about a drink after this?” she couldn’t help asking. “Just one.” To help ease this feeling.

Jess stilled beneath her, before pushing away.

“No,” Trish said, feeling sick to her stomach. “Please. It was just a joke.”

Jess stopped just on the edge of the bed. “No,” she said. “It wasn’t.”

Trish bit the side of her hand, punishing herself with the pain. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Jess said. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Trish stayed there, huddled on the bed, fighting tears as Jess left her room. Oh god. She couldn’t believe that she’d done that. Jess was going to go, leave her, leave her all alone…

“Hey,” Jess said from close beside her. 

Trish looked up and was almost jarred to a halt by the sight of a kitchen knife in her hand. “What?” she asked, not sure what was going on.

“Here’s the deal,” Jess said, eyes hard. “You can pop pills, or drink yourself into oblivion for all I care. But for each drink you take, each pill that passes your lips, I’m going to carve a line in myself. Understand?”

Trish bit her lips on a shriek. She wasn’t good enough for this, she wasn’t strong enough for this. Jess couldn’t… She wouldn’t… But of course she would. She always did have to save Trish. Even, apparently, from herself.

Trish opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again; took a breath. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the look on Jess’s face.

“Fine,” she finally said, defeated. “I’ll check in to rehab in the morning.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jess said, crouching next to her, close enough that Trish could feel the warmth of her skin. She had to force herself not to reach out towards that heat.

Trish opened her eyes again, but couldn’t bring herself to meet Jess’s gaze, instead focussing on the sheet where JessJess had been just minutes ago. “Yeah,” she said, and sighed softly to herself. “I do.”

She didn’t trust herself to do it any other way.

* * * * *

It started off like an evening like any other. Or at least like any other evening since Jess had returned from her abduction by that bastard Kilgrave. Jess, huddled on the sofa, surrounded only by empty bottles when she was home at all, radiating so much standoffishness that at times it was hard just to be in the same room as her, let alone be any closer than the shelter of the most distant easy chair.

It was hard not knowing what the best thing to do was. Everything within Trish cried out to approach Jess, to make of herself a blanket to enfold Jess with, to hold her and keep her safe. 

It was what Jess had always done for her, after all. Protected her from the world. Protected her from her mother, no matter what she’d said at the time.

But she didn’t. Maybe it was that she wanted to give Jess her space to approach her in her own time. Maybe it was the way that Jess glared at her whenever she so much as moved too close. Maybe it was just as simple as the fact that she wasn’t as brave as Jess, that something within her cowered whenever Jess looked at her that way.

So she stayed on the periphery, like this. Waiting, hoping that Jess would reach out, let her help.

“What are you looking at?” Jess asked surlily.

Trish glanced away, realising that she had been looking at Jess for too long. “Just wondering how much of that bottle you’ve got left.”

“Don’t worry. I can get myself more when I run out.” Jess gave her a smile that was more of a twitch of her lips. “It’s not like I would ask you to do it for me.”

Even her current proximity to alcohol was a trial, a presence she couldn’t erase, but… “I would, you know. For you.”

“Of course you would,” Jess sneered and Trish couldn’t help flinching at her tone. “Oh-so-perfect Patsy Walker and her pure love for a bottle of alcohol in her grasp.”

“That’s not fair!” Trish snapped, then forced herself to try and calm down. “I know you don’t really mean that, and I want you to know that I’m here for you however you need me.”

Jess clambered to her feet and swayed over belligerently. “Whatever I need, huh? Maybe what I need is to go to sleep in someone else’s bed having fucked myself into a coma.”

Trish’s head swam like she was getting a contact high off the alcoholic vapour being breathed in her face. It’d be so easy to just lean forward and get her first taste of booze in years. But no. “Whatever you need,” she echoed, her voice more breathy than she’d really like.

“Fine,” Jess said, then ducked down and fastened her teeth into Trish’s neck, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to leave a bruise tomorrow. Trish hissed and she felt Jess start to move away but Trish reached up and grabbed her, refusing to let her leave, to let her push Trish away yet again.

Jess’s next move was to reach into her pants, stopping just short of her knickers. “Really sure you want to do this?” she asked, voice rasping in Trish’s ear.

Trish swallowed. They hadn’t done this since Trish had gone into rehab, had never done it without Trish being at least mildly drunk. But it wasn’t… She was a talk show host with her own rep these days - a good rep - and it was 2014. The thought of going out with a woman didn’t send a shiver down her spine any more.

And it was Jess. And if this was what she needed, Trish would give it to her. She’d said that and she’d meant it.

“I thought you wanted to do this in someone else’s bed?” she said, impressed when she managed to keep her voice from trembling.

Jess ducked back to look her in the face, the expression on her lips more a snarl than a smile. “Lead the way, then.”

She didn’t offer a hand as Trish pushed herself to her feet, just waited silently as Trish nervously led her to her room, but once they were both there, Jess pushed her easily onto the bed. “Last chance,” she said.

Trish shucked off her pants and looked up at her defiantly.

Jess didn’t bother with foreplay, just pushed in with her fingers and started to work, all the while staring Trish in the eyes. It… wasn’t great, even compared with their first fumbling time, even hurt a little, but Trish didn’t back down, didn’t blink. She wasn’t going to let Jess accomplish… whatever it was that she thought she had to, was going to hang on and… Maybe after this Jess would really talk with her, let her help.

After a while, she faked an orgasm, then looked up at her. “So, would you like me to reciprocate?” she asked with a smile she didn’t feel.

“Sure,” Jess said and stripped off her own jeans. “Feel free to go to work.”

Trish did, and she liked to think that Jess enjoyed it more than she had.

Afterwards, despite her words, Jess grabbed her jeans and wandered back out in the direction of the living room. Trish, exhausted and sore, didn’t follow her. The next morning Trish - using all the skills that her mother had taught her to avoid showing how much it still twinged when she walked - passed her unconscious body sprawled out on the couch, clutching a mostly empty bottle of whiskey to her chest, and frowned. 

Tonight, tonight they’d have that talk.

That night she came home to find Jess missing, and she didn’t see her again for six months.

* * * * *

“Wow, your door’s still unbroken,” Trish said as she entered Jess’ office. “That’s got to be some kind of record. It’s been, like, at least two or three days.”

Jess looked at her sourly. “Maybe you should trade in your talk show for a comedy spot.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Trish said, grinning.

“So, what can I do for you? I assume that you’re not just here to comment on my decor.”

“Trust me, I haven’t got that much time,” Trish concurred. “Nope, I’m here to drag you off to some self defence practise.”

Jess raised an eyebrow, and inspected her fist. “I seem to do fairly well for myself.”

“You do *adequately*,” Trish said. “And, yeah, sure, you can beat up the average thug on the street. But even apart from tall, dark and gorgeous with the iron skin, there’s someone making combat drugs out there which can give people a chance against you and the world’s a lot weirder than it used to be. Face it, Jess, you know that when you run into this kind of thing again, you’re going to need every edge you can get.”

Jess looked at her for a moment. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”

“Nope!” she said, putting as much energy into her voice as she could. “You’re just going to going to have to give in.”

Jess groaned. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”

It was weird having Jess back in her old room now that it had been completely stripped of her personality. From the way that Jess concentrated on just Trish, she might just agree, even if she’d never say so out loud.

“Strike like this,” Trish said, demonstrating. 

Jess followed through, desultorily and Trish frowned at her. 

“No, like this,” she said. 

Jess, rolling her eyes, gave an even worse approximation.

“Now you’re not even trying,” Trish said.

“You got me,” Jess said flatly and turned to go.

For a moment, Trish felt like she was about to burst into tears. Jess was going to walk out that door, was going to leave again, and Trish would be *helpless* to protect her. Helpless like she’d been when Kilgrave had commanded her. “Please,” she said, her voice cracking a little, and Jess stopped.

“You really want me to do this?” she asked.

“Please,” Trish repeated and Jess turned back towards her.

“You realise that this is a complete load of shit,” she said in a resigned tone.

“Thank you,” Trish said, smiling.

After an hour or so of exercises, Jess, well, Jess wouldn’t be winning any competitions any time soon. But she’d got the basic forms down to a point where Trish felt more optimistic about the future lessons. So when Jess bad-temperedly dismantled her punching bag, Trish smiled, sweat running down her body.

“I guess we can call it a day then,” she said.

“Finally. Thank god,” Jess said.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” Trish said, hugging her. As she went in for a kiss, Jess twisted and instead of the cheek, Trish hit her mouth and… Oh.

Oh.

Two minutes later, they’re on Trish’s bed, stopping to kiss only to rip another item of clothing. And Trish - oh, Trish had *needed* this. Not with Jess, not specifically, but with someone she could really trust, someone she could let completely go with and trust that she’d be caught.

Which was, granted, pretty much just Jess.

“Let me pin you down,” she murmured between kisses as she trailed her fingers downwards and, yeah, Jess was already wet and ready for her. “Please.”

“Okay?” Jess said, seemingly more as a question than a response, but she crossed her hands above her head regardless. 

Trish felt an almost visceral thrill as she pinioned Jess, was allowed to pinion her, and rode her harder, faster with her other hand. “Just feeling like it,” she said, unable to explain further.

“Uhuh,” Jess said, lips curving, then gasped a little and rolled her hips a little. Suddenly she laughed, and Trish couldn’t help pouting a little, because that had *not* been the effect she had been going for.

“What?” she asked, a little huffily, slowing within Jess.

“Just,” Jess said. “You gave me one trauma fuck. I guess this is me returning the favour.”

What… Trish struggled to follow Jess’ line of thought before suddenly it hit her. 

The last time they’d had sex.

Oh.

She felt sick and backed away so suddenly she hit the wall before she realised it.

“Are-“ she fumbled. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

Jess squinted up at her. “Just as frustrated as hell. Why-?” She went even paler than usual. “Fuck. Shit. I fuck everything up.” She rolled to her feet and started grabbing for her clothes. “I know it’s not worth much, but I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”

Trish caught her before she could leave the room, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” she said and Jess snorted in response. “*Really*. I could have stopped it, any time. You’d have stopped if I’d said anything. I know that, now. I knew that then. I’ve *never* doubted it. But I didn’t. Because I wanted to be there for you. Be as strong for you as you’ve always been for me.”

“That’s really fucked up,” Jess said. “And that’s coming from me.”

“Are you saying that you wouldn’t do the same thing?”

“That’s not a recommendation.”

“I guess,” Trish said. “I mean, you left me anyway.”

“Apparently you were better off without me. Probably still are.”

“How can you say that? Jess, I love you. You’re the one person I love, too.”

“Again, not a recommendation,” she said as she reached the door to Trish’s apartment.

Trish bit her lip. “Just… please tell me you’re not going to cut me out of your life again. Please?”

Jess paused a moment before she left. “No promises.”

* * * * *

“Nice show,” Jess said from where she’d been lurking unseen as Trish exited the radio booth, and Trish almost jumped a mile.

“What- You’re here!” she said, and raced across the station to hug her. “I didn’t think- I was trying to give you space.” And as a day turned into one week, turned into two, she’d tried to snuff out the hope within herself that she’d show again.

Tried and failed.

“I’m a shit,” Jess said. “I’m a mess. If you were sensible, you’d run a mile from me.”

But she was here, and Trish couldn’t stop grinning. “I’ve never been sensible when it comes to you. And I’m not sure you’re that great when it comes to me, either.”

“I’m a disaster. Really.”

“Sorry, don’t believe you. You’re a hero,” Trish said. “You’re *my* hero.” She linked her arm through Jess’. “I’m done for the day. Want to blow this popsicle stand with me?”

“I guess,” Jess grumbled. “Unless you’ve got any doors you don’t like around here.”

She waited until they were on the elevator. “So, not that I’m complaining, but what’s behind the change of heart?”

Jess mumbled something indistinct.

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I’m done keeping away from you, okay?” Jess said, bearing more than a slight resemblance to a ruffled cat.

“Okay,” Trish said. “I could question this, but I’m not going to.” She smiled and maintained her grip on Jess. Not that Jess was trying too hard to get away, she noticed.

“So, want to go get a meal together? I hear there’s a great hole in the wall a few blocks from my office.”

“Really?” Trish asked, looking skeptical.

Jess shrugged. “Okay, it’s a hole in the wall where the owner owes me a favour.”

“I could just get us a table at excellent place downtown.”

Jess looked sour. “Yeah, but I hate those places. And they kinda hate me too.”

“I have to give you that one,” Trish said. “Okay, lead on.” Honestly, she didn’t care. Jess was here, talking with her, spending time with her and nothing else mattered.

What was actually happening didn’t begin to dawn until Jess waved away her offer to go dutch and insisted on paying for everything herself.

“Is this a date?” Trish asked, smiling in disbelief, and was a little surprised when Jess looked trapped.

“No!” she denied instantly, then muttered, “Yes.”

“What? Really?”

Jess huddled into herself. “Don’t shout it around.”

“Oh.” Trish felt something warm flutter to life within her chest. “You didn’t say anything. But yes.”

“Yes?”

She tilted her head and smiled. “If you’d asked me on this date - like you’re supposed to do - I’d have said yes.”

“Well, okay then.”

“So,” Trish said. “Are we going to go up to your apartment now?”

Jess glared at the glass in front of her. “I’m a mess. I’m inappropriate and you deserve much better. But I spent the last two weeks thinking, and…” She shrugged. “I guess I want to do this. And I want to do it right.”

“Firstly, if we’re going out, you’re going to have to stop putting yourself down. You’re-“ She couldn’t help grinning, almost maniacally. She’d never really thought about this possibility, but, oh, it fit so perfectly. She loved Jess. She had for years. She’d just never thought- But now she had, she wanted it. Wanted it more than anything. “You’re everything I ever dreamed of,” she finished.

“You really need to get a better imagination then.”

“What did I just say?” Trish asked with a bit of a bite in her voice and Jess pressed her lips together. “And secondly, wanting to do it right? That’s so sweet.”

“Aaaaaaaand there you had to go ruining it.”

“But I accept,” Trish said magnanimously, as she laced her fingers through Jess’. “So I guess I’ll just have to walk you to your door and, if you’re very lucky, kiss you there.”

“Fine,” Jess said, grumbling.

Trish rose to her feet and offered Jess her hand. “So, my lady, would you like a hand up.”

“Don’t push your luck,” she said, but her lips twitched.

They might not have gone about this like two normal, sensible people. But then again, neither Jess nor Trish were exactly normal, sensible people at the best of times. And there was definitely no one Trish would trust herself with more than Jess.

She couldn’t wait to see what happened next.


End file.
